


American Sweethearts

by CopycatKise



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe, American AU, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bad Parental Relationships, Based on a Taylor Swift Song, Crossdressing Kise, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild Alcoholism for Kise's Mom, first names used
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-05
Updated: 2016-08-05
Packaged: 2018-07-29 14:10:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7687555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CopycatKise/pseuds/CopycatKise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based off the song "Style" by Taylor Swift. </p>
<p>Ryouta Kise and Daiki Aomine have a complicated relationship. At the end of middle school, things had changed for them. Ryouta began to show an interest in crossdressing and wearing make-up while Daiki focused on basketball and pulled away from everyone. They slowly stopped being friends and surprisingly evolved into fuck buddies their junior year. Ryouta doesn't want that, he wants an actual relationship but he's worried Daiki will drop him again like he did before so he doesn't say anything. He'd do anything to keep Daiki in his life. </p>
<p>However, it's nearing the end of their senior year and Ryouta finds out something so frustrating that he can't just sit quietly. Daiki wouldn't like what he had to say but Ryouta finally reaches his breaking point. </p>
<p>"They always got past whatever problems were in their way. It didn’t always seem like it, but he and Daiki were just so damn good together. Whenever their relationship went crashing down, they come back up every time. It took them both a long, long time to get to that point, but if there was one thing that Ryouta had to take away from this it’d be that Daiki Aomine and Ryouta Kise never went out of style."</p>
            </blockquote>





	American Sweethearts

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first time posting KnB/AoKise so I'm kinda nervous! Hope you enjoy!

It was ten o’clock on a Thursday night and Ryouta’s stomach hadn’t stopped turning since yesterday afternoon. He felt sick, too nervous to eat or do much of anything other than obsess over what it could all mean. How couldn’t he? After three months of static from the one person he longed to see most, after three months of heartache and worrying about whether this will be the end of them, then he _finally_ gets the text.  

 

_go out with me tomorrow night. just me and you  
_ Wed 3:09 PM

_i’ll come get you at midnight, be ready  
_ Wed 3:10 PM

 

  
Damn him.

Ryouta Kise was convinced he was going to go crazy if he spent another moment thinking about it too much—thinking about _him_ too much. Ryouta might’ve spent the past few hours dazing off into the ceiling of his room (no doubt trying to refamiliarize himself with every rough angle of Daiki’s face and relearn how it feels to touch every inch of his skin), but he only had two hours left to get ready. He’d be damned before he let a single second of it go to waste.

He plugged his phone into the small speaker sitting atop his nightstand and put it on shuffle. A random Marina and the Diamonds song filled up a corner of his room. Ryouta couldn’t understand what was wrong but his limbs felt like they were made of lead. It was hard for him to move, much less bring himself to focus on getting ready so he just stood there for a second.

_Breathe in and out_ , he told himself.

_In and out._

_Just breathe._

This was only the beginning but soon everything would start to blur. Everything tended to be hazy and painful with _Daiki_ involved in Ryouta’s life. Somehow, for some unfathomable reason, he still missed Daiki. He missed him a lot.

Ryouta debated turning the sound up loud but quickly dismissed the idea. He wasn’t in the mood for it and would only end up feeling irritated. The volume should be soft to reflect his mood. Besides, he mainly needed something to fill the silence and help him forget how lonely he felt while waiting _._

He _could_ blast it as loud as he wanted, loud enough to possibly wake his mother up. The worst that would happen was his mother coming to yell at him. Maybe then she would acknowledge him, maybe then she would see that he was getting dressed up and for once in her life she would take interest in what he was doing and _ask_.

That wouldn’t happen; his mother didn’t really care. Ryouta could tell her straight to her face that he was leaving to meet his kinda-sorta-probably-not-boyfriend so they could fuck and she’d give him no reaction. Nothing he said or did would make her care.

Ryouta couldn’t think of her now, he just couldn’t. He was already upset thinking about Daiki and what he had done. He didn’t need to think of other problems too. He could probably fix the mess with Daiki, but his mother had been a lost cause for a long time.

_Breathe._

Something about this night was different and Ryouta could feel it as he glanced in his mirror. Already, everything felt softer. From the sad smile which he couldn’t rid his lips of to the dull-eyed and far away gaze, he took it all in. He still hadn’t put on any make-up but it wouldn’t change anything. Make-up could only cover so much.

Ryouta willed himself get ready.

 

♥                                                                                             ♥                                                                                             ♥

 

By the time he’s done it’s already 11:30 and Ryouta is dolled up in his cutest dress and flats. That dress is his favorite solely because its Daiki’s favorite. For what seemed like the fiftieth time he checks to make sure he looks alright and that not even an eyelash is out of place. His shoulder length blonde hair is straightened and up in a simple but cute bun, just how Daiki likes it best. The black long sleeved dress he rarely ever wore—the one with the short skirt length, the one which would attract Daiki’s gaze to all the right places—clung comfortably to his body as it always did.

This was their first meeting in months and Ryouta was sure as hell going all out.

His make-up is simple because that was how Daiki liked it best. His usual cat eyed liner was as perfect as it always was. This was what he normally wore, light and natural with nothing too out of the ordinary. The only exception were his lips, they were painted a vibrant red. Ryouta loved that color because it stood out from his pale skin and light hair and _not_ because it was Daiki’s favorite. He had another reason for that particular shade being his favorite, but he never voiced his reason out loud. He didn’t bother to add anything other than a dab of gloss to complete his look.

He knew that by the end of the night every bit of that red, that _oh so sinful red_ , would be painted across Daiki’s exposed skin.

Ryouta smiled. It was the only red he had found which showed up on Daiki’s dark skin as well as it did. And Ryouta _did_ get a sick sense of pride at the idea that Daiki was marked up because he belonged to _him_. Even in his wildest fantasies it seemed too good to be true, the idea that Daiki Aomine could ever belong to Ryouta Kise and only him, and not the other way around. Unfortunately it wasn’t true, and Ryouta didn’t know if it would ever change.

He was hopeful but he wasn’t a fool. He didn’t expect anything of Daiki, especially after what he had found out. So long as Daiki kept this game up every couple of months or so, Ryouta couldn’t really complain. The game just meant he hadn’t forgotten about him, or moved on completely.

Yet.

 

♥                                                                                             ♥                                                                                             ♥

 

It was 11:55 when he finally snuck downstairs, his anxiety getting the best of him. A part of him wondered if Daiki would back out and not show up. It was stupid to wonder that, Ryouta realized, because Daiki had never done it before and there was no reason for him to start now. But Ryouta supposed that a part of him just _wanted_ Daiki to back out so he could put this meeting off for as long as possible.

Ryouta bit the inside of his cheek while glancing towards the living room, looking for any sign his mother could still be up. Realistically, he had nothing to fear, but there was always a slim chance something could change.

His mother was passed out on the couch in the living room and he could hear her snores from the kitchen. This was, of course, courtesy of her 9 PM sleeping pill. There was an empty wine glass sitting by itself in the sink. It couldn’t have been any unhealthier for her because she also drank a few glasses in the morning and then in the afternoon. This went on each and every day. Ryouta had been begging her to stop the cycle since he started high school but she never listened. His mother hadn’t been the same since both of his older sisters left home.

His oldest sister had actually made something of herself and Ryouta was proud of her. She was a photographer somewhere on the other side of the country and was living her dream. The last time he heard from her, she’d made it big in California. Unfortunately, that had been more than six months ago. For all he knew, she could be in another country now, just like his second oldest sister, who dropped everything and moved to Europe about two years earlier. They hadn’t heard from her since.

His oldest sister would sometimes call him and they would update each other on what’s going on but those calls were rare and semi-strained. Mostly because they had to avoid certain topics, like their mother.      

Their mother was never the best. She was an alcoholic who just didn’t seem to give a shit anymore, but she wasn’t a completely horrible person. She just never wanted a son and it was obvious that she loved her daughters more. In fact, she loved them so much that she smothered them with affection constantly and drove them away. She still showed some affection to Ryouta when he was younger and again when he began to wear make-up and crossdress, so it wasn’t as if he were deprived _completely_ of his mother’s love. She never did drop that both of her daughters moved as far away as possible from her and their fucked up home life, but that was okay. Even if his mother had all of those faults, the consistency of her sleeping schedule was one thing he could always count on.

His dad had knocked on his door at 9:50 PM saying he was leaving early for the usual late night shift. Ryouta knew he was probably leaving early to get away from the house—his father liked to leave any time he could. Their house was nothing more than a place for him to sleep. Ryouta honestly didn’t mind that he hardly saw his father, he’d always been more of his mother’s son even if he wasn’t particularly close with her. Ryouta’s affinity for crossdressing had wedged a divide in whatever father-son relationship they might have had and things would never go back to the way they were.

At least his father halfheartedly supported him.

In a sense he was glad his father was barely around—it was one less person to worry about and far less effort in the long run. Ryouta loved sports and he still played basketball but other than that, they had nothing more in common. He _liked_ that he didn’t have be fake around his father and that he didn’t have to act like he was manlier than he was, or pretend that he was into women. 

He wasn’t anything his father or his mother wanted but that was fine. He was fine. He didn’t need them in his life any more than he needed anyone else. He was going to be 18 soon and the moment he graduated from high school he was going to sign a contract and hopefully leave. His career as a model and his future were all lined up for him. He had even gotten the part-time modeling job without his sister’s recommendation—that had been the most important part to him. He busted his ass for work and basketball, and he learned valuable life lessons on his own. He didn’t need anyone else to hold his hand.

Ryouta had turned out well. He didn’t need his parents to tell him that.

He snagged a half-empty bottle of French _whatever-the-fuck-it-was-called_ wine off the counter and shrugged, placing it carelessly into his large purse. It wasn’t cheap, either. It was imported _fancy_ wine. Regardless of the fact that Daiki was more of a whiskey and rum kind of guy, alcohol was alcohol and they were still only teenagers. Ryouta didn’t think he’d mind much, Daiki had drunken worse without much complaint. 

Ryouta checked his phone and saw that Daiki texted him. He had typed in his usual emotionless fashion saying that he was already parked at the end of the driveway with his trucks headlights off. It seemed that no matter how many times they had done this Daiki was always just as paranoid as Ryouta.

Before he left, he kissed his mother’s head and wished her a silent good night. After triple checking that the front door was locked and that he had his keys, he was finally ready to face Daiki for the first time in months.

Come hell or high water, Ryouta wasn’t going to let this night completely flop.


End file.
